Although he wasn't on duty, he would have made a poor warrior indeed if he didn't keep a sharp eye! He did perceive the white figure as it swept in with the tide, recognizing their fur pattern to be that of one of Izumi's various relations. He'd never seen such a large family; Osamu himself had been an only child, and the idea of being surrounded by so many relatives seemed equal parts stressful as it was a blessing.

Her disheveled appearance was of no importance. The Samurai had made many trips of his own from the Rest back to the mainland, and until the universe saw fit to grant them a magic portal of their own, the ocean's briny mark would continue to be a consequence of any travel.

The maiden announced herself, and he woofed back in acknowledgement as she approached.

Good evening, he replied, dipping his head in a gesture of respect. How do you fare? Ah, apologies; I don't believe we've met. I am Osamu.

Rising to his paws, he shook out some of the dampness from his fur as if to further signify his comfort with her waterlogged state. He did not give much credence to appearances anyway; he'd always had an unfortunately wiry coat since his arrival in Mythris.

You are... a relation of the Empress, correct?